Alan Goodwin - Gravity's Chain

Once the system was set, Ryan opened a folder he’d brought with him. He was a big man in his mid-forties. Once his frame would have been impressive, definitely a rugby player, a flanker probably, given his height. The athleticism of his younger days had lost the battle with age, though, as muscle had turned to fat and he looked as if much of his body had slipped from its frame. His face was marked with a large birthmark on his left cheek. Red spider veins spread from either side of his nose like small river tributaries as seen from space.

‘This is Detective Ryan, with me is Detective Orton, we are interviewing Mr Jack Mitchell. He has declined a lawyer. Mr Mitchell, I would like to ask you some questions about an incident concerning Jo Thompson last night at the Hilton Hotel. Can you confirm whether you know Ms Thompson?’

‘Yes, I know her.’

‘How do you know her, Mr Mitchell?’

‘We went to school together.’

‘Did you see her the night before last?’

‘Yes, yes I did. After the show I was doing at the Aotea Centre I returned to the Hilton Hotel where I’m staying. There was an end of show party being held there and Jo came along.’

‘How did she know about the party?’

‘The night before I’d been to a school reunion dinner. I met Jo there and I invited her to come along to the Hilton party.’

‘This dinner would have been at a restaurant in Mission Bay, would it?’

‘That’s right, yes.’

‘Did you leave the dinner with Ms Thompson?’

‘We did leave together.’

‘And can you tell us what happened?’

‘My assistant, Bebe, and my driver collected us from outside the restaurant and we dropped her off in the middle of town, by Borders bookshop.’ Did Ryan detect the shake of my voice as I told the first lie? I couldn’t help but think of the driver as we talked. Bebe would be rock solid with this if asked, but the driver? ‘You can ask Bebe and the driver if you want to check.’

‘We’ve been told you two looked…close when you left the restaurant. Why did you drop her off? Why didn’t you go on somewhere?’

‘Go on somewhere? Look, it was never like that, Detective Ryan. Sure, we were having a laugh, but there was never any question of sex or anything like that if that’s what you’re suggesting. We were just old friends. She had something to go on to and so I dropped her off. Then I went back to the hotel.’

‘Where was she going?’

‘A club, she said, but I don’t think she said which one, she just asked to be dropped off.’

‘What time did you drop her off?’

‘Midnight.’ I felt a trickle of sweat on my back. Every question was deepening the lie and now I was lying to every question.

‘And the next night she came to the party?’

‘Yes.’ I felt the warm relief of being able to answer truthfully.

‘At what time?’

‘Look, I really don’t know. There were a hundred plus people there and I had to talk to all of them—that’s what I have to do at those bloody things.’ Ryan nodded as though he spent many of his free evenings at celebrity parties. ‘I’d been talking to this Russian woman and when I turned back to the party I saw Jo already there and that’s the first time I saw her, I mean noticed her.’

Ryan paused and flicked through some notes in the folder. He glanced at Orton. They didn’t speak, but there was a hidden conversation between them. ‘And this Russian, do you know her name?’

Until now the interview had gone as anticipated by Bebe and I’d run to script, but for the first time I sensed a loss of control. Keep to the story, I heard Bebe say, whatever they throw at you, just keep to the story, don’t deviate for any reason. ‘Sorry, I really don’t think I asked her name.’ I kicked myself—a simple no would have done. Keep to the script.

‘Really?’

‘I meet hundreds of people at these parties. I can’t remember their names so I make no attempt to know them.’

‘Could it have been Claudia?’

‘I really don’t know.’

‘That’s her professional name—her real name is Olga Petrova, though I doubt she introduced herself to you that way.’

The shift of control was becoming a slide. How did they know her name? My God, we’d never reckoned on this. ‘It may have been, but like I said I never asked and I don’t think she ever told me.’

‘Unusual to never introduce yourself at a party.’

‘It happens.’

‘Do you know her profession?’

‘We didn’t talk for long. She told me she’d come from Russia about three years ago and did marketing or something like that.’

‘Did you know she was a prostitute?’

I looked at the table for what felt the longest five seconds of my life. Perhaps they knew everything. Somehow, in just a day, the boys in blue had unravelled the whole damn sordid night. Was it worth keeping up the pretence? Was it really worth digging my pit deeper and adding shiny sides to make escape ever more impossible? Then I saw Bebe’s face, urging me on. ‘I suppose it’s possible, but I certainly didn’t talk about anything that indicated she was one. The only thing she offered me was…’

‘What?’

‘I don’t want to get her into any trouble.’

‘Truth is always the best option, Mr Mitchell.’

I felt the interview swing back on track. ‘Coke. She offered me some coke.’

‘Didn’t know her name but she offered you coke?’

‘I guess she was looking for a good time. I’m famous, it happens a lot, some girls want me as a kind of prize.’

‘Did you accept her offer?’

I laughed nervously. I could feel Bebe breathing down my neck. ‘No, no I didn’t take her up on the offer.’

‘So, Mr Mitchell, you were standing with this Russian lady, whose name you didn’t know, discussing the use of recreational drugs, when Jo Thompson arrived. Did you go straight to Ms Thompson, or did you wait while someone else spoke to her?’

‘As soon as I saw her I went over.’

‘Was the Russian woman still with you?’

It crossed my mind to drop the script. If they knew who she was perhaps they had already spoken to her and knew what I was about to say was crap.

‘Yes, she walked over to Jo with me.’ Neither policeman revealed a flicker of emotion. ‘I spoke to Jo first, then introduced them to each other.’

‘How did you manage that?’ asked Ryan, suddenly holding me with his most intense stare of the evening. ‘How did you introduce the Russian to Jo if you didn’t know her name?’

‘I didn’t, I just introduced Jo to her.’ Shit, Bebe was good, he’d thought of everything, except for them knowing who Claudia was, of course.

‘And then what happened?’

‘The three of us talked for a while. Bebe came over; I talked to him about some Taikon company people I needed to meet and when I rejoined the conversation, the two of them, Jo and the Russian, were talking about…talking about doing some drugs.’

‘Coke?’

‘Yes.’

‘Even though they’d just met?’

‘I know, but that’s what they discussed. They asked if I wanted to join them. I declined. They left. I went with them because I wanted to get something from my room.’ This was the part of the script I felt most uncomfortable with. I told Bebe I should stay away from saying we left, but he said anyone could have seen us leave together and that had to be covered. It had sounded weak in the bedroom. In the harsh surroundings of the interview room it sounded insipid.

‘What did you need from your room?’

‘Some notes I wanted to talk to a Taikon executive about.’

‘Go on.’

The bloody quicksand of lies: I was sinking faster and deeper and now I could almost feel it on my chin. ‘We got into the lift together. They were talking, pretty much ignoring me. They got out of the lift on the fifth floor, I think, yes, the fifth floor, and that was the last time I saw either of them.’